


Early Morning Call - part II

by argonautic



Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M, chapters are a thing and I’m bad at it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:14:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 17,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26874250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argonautic/pseuds/argonautic
Summary: There's something James has accidentally confessed, and Jeremy loses his sleep over it.(Part II ofEarly Morning Call- makes much less sense without having read that first)
Relationships: Jeremy Clarkson/James May, Jeremy Clarkson/Lisa Hogan
Comments: 73
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm finally managing to write a sequel to 'Early morning call' and it's turning out much longer than part I.  
> It feels like this one needs a further disclaimer about how this is mere fiction, thus not representing thoughts or actions of real people featured in the story nor to imply anything about them.

It was James who hanged up. Jeremy was too confused to even consider such a mean act, too shocked to react at all.

It was James who hanged up, and that makes it all much more complicated. Because of what he's said before hanging up - assumed Jeremy has got it right, but he fears so. It’s been so quick he isn't even sure he hasn’t dreamt it all; it’s Lisa, asking “Who was it?” as huffy as one can sound while half-asleep, that unknowingly confirms it wasn’t a dream.

"May. Awfully pissed. Keep sleeping, all’s well”, he replies, satisfied by how convincing he sounds. She mutters something in response and turns over on her side; Jeremy pretends he hasn’t understood.

_No, it wasn’t a bad prank. James doesn’t do that kind of things._

Jeremy wishes he could just fall back asleep like nothing has happened, but such a issue isn't something he can easily dismiss: the usually comfy mattress has already become a bed of nails, the pillow is too hot and the blanket too heavy, so Jeremy pulls it away and sits on the edge of his bed, checking his phone again, wondering if he should text James something, if not call back. The screen blackens while he evaluates the appropriateness of a few words, and which ones if, and probably it’s a sign he’d better forget whatever has just happened and get back to sleep.

It seems a reasonable choice: Jeremy goes for a wee first, then takes a detour to the refrigerator and considers having a beer, but no, _water’s better_. And painkillers. And sleeping pills. Having woken up so abruptly has triggered a sodding headache, but it's too early to turn to alcohol, even if the circumstances probably require it - he had gotten shamefully drunk for less relevant reasons in the past. _Maybe alcohol would have been an overall healthier choice_ , he reconsiders, but he goes for the pills anyway: Jeremy takes the medicine box from the cabinet and gets the blisters right at first try, experienced, despite the messy content. Push out, swallow, chug. Then again. And one last time. Hesitant between the sofa and the bed, he chooses the latter - _can’t afford a backache too_. He gets under the blanket again and lies flat, waiting for the sleep to come back.

_Bloody hell James._

_You shouldn’t have said that. Not now. Not now that we've all found some kind of balance. You were plastered, you didn't know what you were saying._

_Sarah has given you a puny justification to sod you off and you've accepted it. Because you were both tired of the other. It happens, I know it does._

_And it's easier to find a different reason, a trivial excuse that's less harmful, instead of going back and seeing when everything had started to go wrong. Seeing who did it wrong first._

_Easier, and less painful, it's perfectly understandable. But you didn't mean that. You just wanted to say that it was a fucking absurd excuse, but it worked for you both. And that's all that matters._

_I’m fine with it, if it’s what you needed. But it's not about me. It can’t be about me. Not now._

The bed is still far from being comfortable and the meds are taking too long to daze him; he doesn’t want to further disturb Lisa, who is sleeping soundly again, _good for you,_ so he refrains from getting up again and just lingers there, squinting with concentration in the aim to evoke sleep and stop thinking about what happened. Miserably failing.

_Why didn’t you just - what’s the point of having told me?_

_Why did it take so long… what do you think I am going to do now?_

_It’s… wrong. It’s too late. I have nothing to do with that and there’s nothing I can do about it. Not now._

_I should have chosen the sofa and watched the telly instead. I just need to fall asleep. I must fall asleep soon._

His wish gets fulfilled a minute later.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a time when Jeremy had considered such a chance; it came naturally, it was the obvious thing to do. His whole world was more or less turning to hell, yet James was there: a shelter for dark hours, solid and sound; a healing talisman and a safe harbour. So acquiescent yet so unswerving - a sparring partner, someone you could punch and get punched by, aware that it would have been for the best in both cases. Sacked and alone, inevitably inclined to reconsider a few choices he’d made, Jeremy found himself wondering if, among all the ‘what if’s, he should also count the chance of seeing James in a different light.

Around the same time things between James and Sarah screwed up a bit - James hadn’t said a word about it, Jeremy knew through Richard – and the wondering became a slightly more concrete hypothesis: in the end, what's the problem in bearing awful striped jumpers if in exchange you can have someone capable to fix your appliances, your car and probably your life too?

Aiming to assess the potential feasibility of what Jeremy still didn’t know exactly, he self-established an ‘evaluation period’ and attempted a few, subtle efforts to both test out James’s inclination and understand his own boundaries. It didn’t work as planned: Jeremy struggled to maintain the precarious balance of personal matters and work, and James was particularly refractory to Jeremy’s hints. Worse: he was taking all the hints - laughing at Jeremy’s jokes, bearing Jeremy's touch and no one else's or locking eye with him for no apparent reasons - just to pull back right after, withdrawing everything he’d shown like a street vendor caught in the rain every time Jeremy suggested anything vaguely more demanding than having a beer alone together. So nothing came out of it, up to the day when Jeremy found out James had somehow solved his alleged issues with Sarah – via Richard, again – and decided he might just as well forget about him.

Well, almost forget: he kept having a soft spot for James - _how can you not,_ he somehow justified himself, _it's James!_ \- but since they were still working together, it easily turned into camaraderie against Hammond, for the profit of the show, or even disguised as bullying if needed; James didn’t react to that either, he kept being the usual enigmatic, unfathomable James and Jeremy soon got tired of deciphering any possible message from his side and gave up wondering about the chance.

His legs feel heavier than usual when Jeremy wakes up again, not only because of the sheets they’re tangled in, thus getting up of the bed requires two attempts. Despite the persisting numbness, he blindly reaches out to grab his mobile before moving to the loo; it’s a sort of déjà vu that makes all the pieces come together and what has happened a few hours ago pierces Jeremy’s still aching mind like an unwelcome ray of sunlight.

“Fuck”. It’s only a four-letters word yet it’s enough to sum up the night just passed, particularly stressing the fact he thought he had forgotten the all reasons that had made him wonder if James could have been the right one, those same reasons that were conveniently labelled as _masochistic, blind, and reckless_ and therefore dismissed for everybody’s sake – especially his own.

 _And now it turns out the idiot was… thinking the same._ Still sat on the bowl, Jeremy scrubs his face, frowning to himself for raking his brain over James’s words first thing in the morning. He manages to collect himself and reach Lisa for breakfast, aiming to drown his troubles into coffee. She seems particularly understanding when he blames the persistent headache to justify his absent-mindedness, nevertheless she can't help asking: “What was wrong with May last night, by the way?”

“Sarah ditched him. Or he did, I didn’t get it, he slurred like a drunken sailor”; it’s a good answer, _omissions aren’t lies_ , and if for some reasons she caught a few words from their dialogue, he’ll blame the misunderstanding on the slurring – it’s the perfect answer for being off the cuff, Jeremy smugly assesses.

“Oh good lord - have you called him back?”

“No. Not yet. I’m not even sure he was me he wanted to ring up.”

“Just text him then - at least to have him realize it, he’s your friend in the end”, she suggests.

“Yeah, I’ll probably call him later”, but his early morning acting skills aren’t as good as he thought, or maybe Lisa is more alert than last night, and the way she shakes her head tells Jeremy she doesn’t believe it either.


	3. Chapter 3

He won't call James. He can’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t sound inappropriate, so what’s the point of calling? Embarrassed silences on both ends of the line? It seems an even worse outcome, so no. He’s not going to call James. Not now. Not for a while. Not until there’s a good reason to – a different reason, a good excuse at least. But perhaps not even then.

By the end of the day James hasn’t called either, so Jeremy supposes he could get away with that - _forgetting it all, that would be the best choice_ , and it generally works when Lisa is around or he's busy with the farm. He couldn’t stifle a laugh while coping with a particularly stubborn sheep of the flock, “It’s like having to deal with James May!”, _it's a cheap joke but it will work on the telly_ ; as soon as he lacks some form of distraction, though, it’s James’s confession he thinks about.

The following day, when his phone rings, Jeremy fears it’s James again; the screen shows it’s Richard, but Jeremy is pretty sure the matter of the call won’t be much different. Just like Jeremy has foreseen, after the greetings Richard switches to the real reason for having called, “Have you heard from James lately? Does he remember we’re shooting the promo on Thursday? He hasn’t replied to the text in our chat…”

 _Oh if I had_ , Jeremy silently sighs, but chooses to profess himself oblivious to test the waters: “No, but apart from arriving half an hour later than us, he usually manages to remember the dates – places are a different matter, I grant you, and he’s too lazy to text.”

“If you say so… by the way, er, there’s a thing I guess you’d better know then; it’s quite a delicate matter, so please act appropriately, okay?”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“Exactly. Anyway… James and Sarah have split up.”

“Oh”. Not too shocked, moderately concerned: _perfect_ , Jeremy reckons.

“Yeah… Sarah told Mindy; she then told me but I’m not even sure I was supposed to know… and I’m telling you just because maybe we’d better have a bit of regard for him - I mean, avoiding the subject or so…”

 _He said he’s in love with me, it’s not something I’m going to forget easily – do I want to forget it?_ , a deeper voice asks, remaining unanswered - _but fine, I don’t want to make an announcement of it either_. “It’s… well, unexpected… is it… final? Do you know what happened, I mean, their reasons?”, he hazards.

“No. I don’t know if Mindy knows, but, you know, women’s things - it would probably be unfair towards James to pry further, maybe he’s going to tell us soon...”

 _I’m pretty sure he won’t - I hope he won’t._ Reckoning Richard wouldn't be able to bluff about something so relevant, Jeremy relaxes a little bit: “Hammond it took years to find out they were a couple, I highly doubt James will come out easily with their split-up… but I got the message: no stupid jokes or anything”

“Exactly, just try to act like a decent human being, okay? See you mate.”

“Yeah, bye”, Jeremy concludes, rapidly dismissing any possible speculation on what a decent human being in his shoes should do before risking thinking about something too feasible for everybody’s sake - _keeping it all to myself count as acting like a decent human being, right?_

Despite Hammond’s concerns, he's sure he won’t even hint at the issue when meeting James again, let alone twist the knife in the wound: James or whoever else, Jeremy well knows how painful it could be to part ways with someone you’ve spent ages with. Then, late at night and well-oiled, he realises the difficult part will be resisting the will to grab James’s hideous shirt and slam it against the wall - while he wears it - asking him how can he be so fucking slow.


	4. Chapter 4

When he meets Jeremy at the entrance of the studio on Thursday, Richard doesn’t even say ‘hello’, getting straight to the burning issue:

“So? Have you heard from James? How is he doing?”

Jeremy hasn't, for better or for worse: James has never called again, and Jeremy didn't even attempt to. But Jeremy's reply is pretty independent from the actual events, given the time he's spent figuring out how to face the different eventualities Richard has been knowing more, less, or as equal as him about what has gone wrong between James and his – former – missus.

“Why should I have?”: short for ‘you don’t know the reason why I actually should, do you’ and fit for Jeremy’s investigative purposes, aimed to understand if Richard has found out something else. It turns out he did, but it’s an irrelevant, predictable detail given Sarah’s known steadfastness:

“Because Sarah’s ditched him – I’ve asked Mindy, it’s final – and he’s alone?”, Richard explains, and it sounds so obvious that Jeremy feels the urge to distance himself from the whole issue, “I do not know anything about it except that from you Hammond…”

“So? Do you think I’m kidding?”

“No… but I really can’t see why I should call him”, Jeremy replies, persuading himself that the tickle scratching his throat after he’s said those words it’s just a random itch. Richard rolls his eyes at Jeremy’s casualness before insisting:

“Because you’ve already been through something similar, maybe he will talk with you! Come on, I can’t do that - you’re always mocking me because of my yoghurt-commercial family, you can’t think I'm the right one…”

Among all the reasons Richard could have listed, it’s one of the most comforting to hear; better than ‘you’re visibly yearning to talk with him’, much better than ‘it’s you he said he’s in love with’, so it’s a good idea to stick to that theme:

“Well, for the records, I too have wonderful kids, as well as a gorgeous girlfriend whose only flaw seems to be being in love with me-”, and the itch now stings deeper, making Jeremy choke a cough, “-so I don’t think I’m the right one either. And he’s clearly not willing to talk about it.”

“Oh, come on, it’s James, he will never talk about it if not asked!”

_And that’s for the best_ ¸ Jeremy silently concludes, shaking his head to express his disagreement while pretending to check something over his mobile. Richard side-eyes him, unpersuaded by Jeremy’s indifference. When they talk again, it’s to comment an Aston Martin passing by, and the conversation settles on cars until, a few minutes later, James finally arrives at the studio in his usual fashion of messy hair and unsightly shirt. Richard has already switched back to the usual jolly Hammond and greets James with probably a bit too much cheerfulness; Jeremy chooses to think James’s rushed reply is due to lateness only, despite the wary glance James casts at him behind Richard’s shoulder.

Nevertheless, during the brief rehearsals and the shooting nothing went differently than usual, banter included – and it’s a good thing, for which Jeremy silently thanks whatever God is on duty today, having feared for their business and their sanity too; his own remains a matter of concern at the end of the shooting session, because all considered James is behaving normally, almost excessively normally given the premises, and the sensation he has dreamt it all resurfaces - together with an alarming sense of disappointment.

_What were you waiting for, a public announcement?,_ Jeremy reflects while hitting the loo during a pause; yet it feels like James is unwittingly mastering Jeremy’s resolution of ‘forgetting it all’ way too easily – at least better than him, apparently.

After the shooting is done, the three of them leave the place all together as usual; Richard walks ahead, impatient to get back home in time for dinner for once, and the enthusiastic description of his plans for the next days echoes over the concrete walls of the underground car park. The inappropriate normality, that Jeremy begins to feel unbearable, ends when he gets into his car and Jeremy and James are left there alone.

This is the point when one of them usually suggest going and having a pint together: Jeremy doesn’t want to push things, he decided it’s part of his ‘decent human being’ attitude, so he diligently waits for James to make the first move, yearning for a sign. Instead, they don’t exchange a single word and just keep walking side by side under the neon lights, moving well past Jeremy’s car, silence only broken by their colleague’s car passing by.

When James unlocks the doors of his car Jeremy realises the time is running out and desists from restraining any longer; “Before you go”, he begins, trying to sound as inoffensive as possible, “There’s one thing I need to ask you.”

James’s shoulders stiffen at those words; he bows his head even lower, then quickly scans the grey surroundings before replying. “I hoped you would have forgotten about it”, he goes, shielded behind the open door, “Please forget it all, pretend it never happened or so.”

It's rushed, very un-James to Jeremy’s opinion, unless you consider those nights he is really pissed and jabbers on like he’s paid to, but it’s not the case. He doesn’t even look at Jeremy while talking and Jeremy’s suspicion - that James has somehow managed to get through the whole shooting talking to his eyebrows only - gets confirmed.

If the style is questionable, the content is even worse. It doesn’t matter if it’s the same resolution Jeremy had found for the sake of a quiet life, it clashes with James’s professed infatuation: Jeremy was ready to understand reticence or embarrassment, well aware of how hard it is to pretend something hasn’t happened when it touches certain strings, hard to deal with for the same reason, _but this is nonsense, you’ve- bloody hell James, you’ve confessed you’re in love with me, how can you act like nothing has happened? How can you ask me to let it go?_

Jeremy doesn't know what to answer: it's not ‘okay’ nor 'fine’, and there's at least one significant issue he feels the need to clarify so ‘no problem’ probably doesn't fit either, but he goes for it anyway, trying to keep it friendly. It takes him a lot to talk politely while his jaw clenches instead:

“No problem, I understand you were… shaken - by the event, I mean…”. Words are failing Jeremy and it’s quite a bad sign; he struggles to keep the conversation going and can’t come out with anything better than “Whatever has happened, if you’re willing to talk about it, or just vent, whatever, just ring me up, ok?”

It’s the polite thing to say, pity Jeremy doesn’t mean it: it slipped out like that and so he goes with it, but he couldn’t bear spending a night listening to James going over his problems – not if they’re actually about him, not if the turmoil in Jeremy's stomach keep making so much noise to cover the voices outside.

Yet those words seem to impress James, who finally raises his head, surprised first, then appreciative: “Probably won’t, but thanks”.

Explicit gratitude between them is a rare event but beside the content of his statement, the way James looks at Jeremy, with sincere thankfulness in spite of the blue eyes still veiled by self-pity, is enough for Jeremy to think that maybe the reason for James’s wariness, whether it was embarrassment or regret, has been cleared.

He relaxes seeing James’s shoulders loosen, and in that move he reads a closeness that probably isn’t there, because instead of attempting at a further explanation James cuts it short, “It’s probably superfluous, but please keep what has happened to yourself only. Good night.”.

Expecting a different reaction and feeling the chance slip away, Jeremy can’t hold back anymore the question it’s been tormenting him and thoughtlessly spouts it: “Is it actually because of me?”

James freezes, half in half out of the car. “I was beside myself”, he harshly replies; Jeremy can’t help suspecting that the resolute stare is mostly a strain of self-persuasion, but the way James looks at him hits right at the pit of his throat and it’s not a pleasant sensation; _right, let’s cut it off, this is going either nowhere or straight to hell_ , “Yeah, I bet you were. I’m going home, good night.”

Annoyance turned into actual rage, Jeremy strides back to his car; he doesn’t flinch at the tyres squealing on the smooth floor, doesn’t turn his head when James’s car passes behind his back.

Sat in his car, Jeremy grabs the steering wheel like he's ready to tear it off, _Bloody Nora James, how can you be so fucking complicated? You weren’t beside yourself to ring me up, were you? You’re a bloody idiot, and I’m a bigger one to have thought you would admit the truth - I know it’s the truth. I’ve always known, you’ve just been a coward, but I guess it’s understandable. It’s fine, I’ll forget about it as you wish – I’m used to_.


	5. Chapter 5

It's easier than expected, to forget about it: his own show is keeping Jeremy so busy that there’s no time to waste pining for James - _there’s no point in it also, you should have known by now_. So, apart from minor incidents with obstinate sheep, he devotes himself to farming, actually or pretentiously according to the show’s needs, without distractions. The farm also provides material for most of his columns, yet when it comes to writing Jeremy blesses the times someone gives him a car to test and review: he would have never thought there would be a day he became tired of it, yet that day came; now it's right the opposite and the prospect of spending a whole day driving aimlessly without having to pay for the fuel or the damages – _what damages, I’m not Hammond!_ – fills him with joy like it used to do a few years ago. So, if he finds himself wondering what James could think of the brand-new BMW he’s unleashing up and down the hills, it’s for professional reasons only.

Lisa asked about James once, after having read something in the news about an incoming new show of his – _oh, another side project he's incidentally forgotten to tell us about_ , Jeremy bitterly acknowledges – yet it doesn’t change much, it’s like he has already forgotten what James had confessed. Unless he gets hammered. Or feels particularly miserable. Or he’s home alone. That one time the three conditions combined he coped with them in a way he’s not proud of but, other than that, everything is fine - Jeremy firmly believes it.

A week passes and a new message from Andy appears in their group chat: 'Had a couple of ideas for the next episode, can we meet at the office tomorrow at five?'

It’s a joyful surprise, and Jeremy doesn’t even check his agenda before quickly texting ‘Fine by me’; Richard’s affirmative reply appears on the screen as he’s typing, so waiting for James’s is the obvious thing to do – painfully obvious: the unavoidable flashback to the way they’ve parted last time quickly flattens out the spark of happiness, so he sends his text and puts the phone back in his pocket, _James’s too lazy to text_.

It's almost heart-warming to get back to their office after so long: it’s the kind of stress-relieving routine Jeremy doesn’t want to admit he needed, and the familiarity of it all makes him overcome the creeping nervousness of seeing James again. Apparently, Andy was really confident in his idea since he’s holding the meeting in grand style, with the majority of the crew summoned there, a sign he’s quite sure about the quality of his plan - a good sign: the farm is getting, well, not tedious, but constantly demanding, so Jeremy feels that a bit of change would do him good. Busy telling around funny anecdotes from his farming experience and well used to James’s lateness, he doesn’t give too much weight to the still empty chair, at least until Andy taps his pen twice and begins: "So, James rang me up, he’s having a glitch and he's not sure he'll manage to join us later, but we can begin without him".

Jeremy is still processing the news and the resulting realization James isn’t sat next to him yet when Richard elbows him, "Is it still about Sarah?”; the question stands out in the sudden silence and Jeremy can feel all eyes on him, astonished and concerned at those words. Taken by surprise, he can't find anything sensible to reply with; Andy unintentionally saves him, asking "What’s wrong with Sarah?" – he’s looking at them both but it's Richard embarrassed muttering that sticks out over Jeremy's red-faced puzzlement, "Oh, er... you didn't know, right? Well, they split up... badly, as far as I know".

"No… that’s quite shocking honestly", Andy replies while Jeremy is risking a crick in the neck from the way he turns his head to avoid crossing everybody else's eye, not wanting to be linked to the whole issue, especially not to Richard’s questionable choice to broadcast the news, even if it was due to the same good intentions he’d called Jeremy with.

He tries to follow the ensuing dialogue between Andy and Richard but at the same time he’s wondering why Richard has asked him, why he supposes it’s still about Sarah – wasn’t it final? – but mainly how fucking far he knows about it, all while discretely mangling a marker that had the bad luck to be close at hand. When Richard concludes his explanation, "...haven't heard from him yet but... I guess no - I don't know the details though", the marker slips away from Jeremy's grip and bounces on the table, skimming right in front of Richard, and it’s so blatantly accusatory that he feels the need to apologise: "Yeah, I probably should have kept it for myself... sorry".

Jeremy doesn’t have the time to understand why Richard has apologised with him as Andy starts again, “Well, we’ll try to be understanding with him… Anyway, let’s talk about the show now”. Regardless of Andy speaking, Jeremy dwells on Richard’s words, especially on his claimed ignorance of the actual reasons Sarah has ditched James - if it’s genuine, Jeremy doesn’t know if to thank Mindy or Sarah for it. Then, when his alienation becomes visible and Richard elbows him again, legitimately this time, he resigns himself to quit overthinking and just listen.

Eventually, James arrives: his appearance is highlighted by Richard’s happy squeal, “Mate!", that triggers an impromptu chorus of overly-joyful or overly-restrained greetings, somehow managing to earn Jeremy a death-stare from the newly arrived as soon as he sits down. Jeremy takes it without batting an eyelash, it’s not the hardest thing to bear in the end and he really doesn’t want to argue with James, not here and now for sure. Unperturbed, Jeremy remains deliberately focused on Andy’s explanations up to the end of the meeting, despite Richard’s concerned glances; more worryingly, the only observation he makes are actually sensible ones, like he’s lost his taste for banter. When it’s James talking, everybody seems to pay more attention than usual, seemingly trying to read something between the lines; _I understand concern, I can understand curiosity, but James loathes this kind of attention and he’s going to blame me for that_ , so Jeremy deliberately ignores him for balance, devoting himself to his mobile or doodling on the docket instead every time James speaks.

As expected, Andy’s plan represents the perfect balance of spectacularism and feasibility, with a few pretty good side ideas already coming out of the quick brainstorming, so they adjourn until next Monday to work on a few more details. “Great, thank you all, now let’s move to the pub”, Andy concludes as per tradition.

James doesn’t look persuaded to join the party, so Richard pushes him, “Come on mate!”, naively adding “It will do you good”; James raises one suspicious eyebrow in response but chooses to follow them anyway. While he’s heading outside, he trips and almost falls over a cable left in the way; Jeremy is the only one to mock him, “James it’s too early to break a leg now, you should wait for the night before we leave for filming”, and he's almost proud of how spontaneous it came out. Meanwhile, the others rush to James’s aid with almost too much zeal, and their overreaction earns Jeremy another annoyed glance, this time behind his shoulders.


	6. Chapter 6

James gets inside the pub a cigarette too late to find a seat next to Richard or Jeremy, if he’d wanted to; by means of a brief unspoken dialogue in glances and nods, costing him a lot of self-control, Jeremy offers to make space for another chair, but James makes clear there’s no need to, and sits at the other end of the table. _This is worse than pretending it hasn’t happened,_ Jeremy silently observes, then turns to the pint in front of him and tries to enjoy both the alcohol and the company.

After a few rounds, when the conversation gets to the pros and cons of the new format and Richard confesses how he misses the documentary segments a bit, Jeremy breaks in enthusiastically: "Oh, me too! I mean, your Clark tribute - must admit, an exceptional one! Really good, really, great telly – educational level, yet intriguing, a true masterpiece.”

“I was ready to bet you haven’t drunk that much yet but, well, thank you Jeremy”, Richard giggle in reply, gobsmacked, and Jeremy insists with genuine fervour, “No, no, I’ve been sincerely impressed! I mean, the guys here have done miracles with the cameras and all, but you’ve been stellar, extremely brilliant. Astonishingly good - I’ll say… fascinating. Really.”

It’s so unusual to receive so much praise by Jeremy that Richard can’t help joking, “Oh please stop doing that, I’m not used to hear compliments from you! What’s next, are you going to call me in the middle of the night to confess your gay crush on me?”

It’s a good laugh for everyone around the table, Jeremy included; it takes him a split second longer to realize the size of the disaster that has just happened. He instinctively turns towards James, only to see him standing up and walking away. Richard is already entertaining the crew with his impression of Jeremy interviewing Will Young, so Jeremy quickly pulls out his mobile and waves it towards no one in particular, feigning an incoming call, then gets up and walks outside, hoping that nobody is going to connect the dots or follow him.

The air outside makes him shiver, or maybe it’s only tenseness: he puts the phone back in his pocket and walks around the corner of the pub. The fag burning red means James is there, in the small alley where they used to smoke next to each other, until Jeremy quitted. Jeremy gets closer, silent, but the debris crackling under his feet give away his presence. James's only reaction is a peremptory “Go away”.

“I haven’t said a word”, Jeremy hurries to point out, obviously ignoring James’s request.

James’s eyes seem to burn brighter than his cigarette, fuelled with a resigned disappointment that goes beyond rage. He turns towards Jeremy and hisses, “Don’t ever try to be fucking sincere once Clarkson, it may kill you.”

“I am sincere, you pillock! Why do you think I’m here for? I’m not apologising – there’s nothing I have to apologise for, I haven’t done anything, please believe me”: it starts furious but ends almost beseeching, as Jeremy realises the kind of cul-de-sac he’ll be stuck in, through no fault of his own, if James won’t be willing to listen.

Unmoved as in Jeremy’s worst prediction, James squints, “I’m not punching you because I don’t even want to touch you, you’re just disgusting. There's banter, and there's backstabbing, and you don't seem to know the difference between them. But since it’s all my fault - and you can't understand how much I hate myself for that - since it's my fault and I can't actually blame you for anything prosecutable, I’m done with this. Find someone else for the show.”

Jeremy almost stomps a foot out of frustration, “James please”, then takes a deep breath before going on, “Please tell me you don’t think I’m such a traitor, I swear I haven’t said a word. It’s only been the oddest chance ever, you know Hammond has a dirty mind, but it’s just been a bloody coincidence. I haven’t told anyone – you’ve asked for it, and I would have done it all the same even without you asking. I. Haven't. Told. Anyone.”

"I. Don't. Care. Anymore”, James apes him, “You can tell everybody, I don't care - I pity the fool who believes your words Clarkson. Shame on me because I’ve trusted you. I thought I could trust you. Don’t worry though, it’s not something I’m going to do again.”

It’s an unfounded rant but Jeremy could even understand it, if it just didn’t hurt like that. Speaking open-heartedly would probably hurt even more, yet Jeremy can’t find anything better than utter earnestness to try and persuade James one last time:

“Nobody knows what you’ve told me James. I’ve been thinking about it, I’ve been wondering why the hell you’d come out with something similar, if it was true or not, I’ve been- I've been wanking over it, James, do you want me to get more sincere than this? But I’ve never told anyone. Ask Hammond if you don’t believe me.”

James has frozen a few words earlier, and snarls as incredulous as disgusted: “You what?”

Firm on his stance of sincerity, Jeremy doesn’t care about James’s reaction and just retorts, “You’ve heard it clearly”.

“Fuck off. I don’t want to have nothing to do with you anymore. You’re dead to me”, James growls; he throws the fag in the middle of the street and strides away down the sidewalk - _quite fast for being James_ , Jeremy can’t help evaluating.

He doesn’t call him or try to stop him, it’s already quite messy like this and it feels like he can only make it worse. James will cool down eventually, realise the misunderstanding and- _well, whatever, not now anyway,_ Jeremy concludes. He walks back inside, muttering “Sarah” when asked what was wrong with James, and sits down again, staring at his glass to avoid meeting anybody’s eye – especially Richard’s. It takes five, maybe ten minutes for the subject to switch to cars; Jeremy gets to the bottom of his pint before excusing himself, “Goodnight chaps, long day, see you on Monday”. When he walks outside again, James is nowhere to be found.

He shouldn’t have said it. It isn’t a lie though; it happened the one night Lisa wasn’t at home, when Jeremy had gotten remarkably disheartened by what was on the news - and remarkably drunk - that it came worryingly natural to think about James again. About the possibilities. About what could have happened. Worse, about what still could. In a glimmer of sensibleness Jeremy decided to cut it all off and turn in for what’s left of the night, and what’s better than wanking off to fall asleep soon?

It worked, for the record. Jeremy hasn’t deliberately decided to wank over James – for as much as he’s somehow declared he was in love with Jeremy he was still a middle-aged man with questionable taste in clothing - but with him being the leitmotiv of the last half an hour of lucubration it didn’t take long for Jeremy’s dizzy imagination to overlook a few details and provide a likely development to the infamous early morning call, managing to sexually please Jeremy all the same and requiring more coffee than usual the morning after. It worked, but now James hates him, and Jeremy doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn't want to tell on Richard: it's not the point of who has told what, it's James not believing him that hurts more than expected, it’s the way James has already been able to rationally withdraw every move he’d made in the past, the way ‘forgetting it all’ seems a perfectly logical solution to him, while Jeremy is losing his sleep over his muted feelings stridently resurfacing now that he knows for sure James reciprocates them – _a drunk James is more reliable than a mad one_ , he hopes.


	7. Chapter 7

On Monday, Jeremy walks into the office with a poorly concealed nervousness that turns to guilty concern when James’s desk remains empty even after 10 o’clock. The best thing to do, Jeremy decides, is to play dumb: it complies with James’s plea for oblivion, and also helps persuading himself it’s only a random coincidence James hasn’t showed up yet.

During the coffee break Andy explains James has asked for a couple of days off with no reasons added, and Richard promptly turns to Jeremy, interrogative, “Sarah?”; “Guess so”, Jeremy answers without missing a beat like he knows it for sure. Richard nods in understanding and doesn’t ask further, seemingly appeased - Jeremy isn’t. He can’t ask Andy for details since he’s apparently being considered the one who knows the most about it, meanwhile the chance that James has seriously meant it, that he is really thinking about leaving the show, seems painfully realistic.

The break overextended up to the point it needs to be interrupted by Andy himself: it doesn’t help explaining that between one coffee cup and another Jeremy and Richard were actually discussing ideas for the show, Andy still threatens to give them James’s share of the work too, “since you seemingly have a lot of spare time.”

“He should have gotten back to work anyway, it’s good for distraction”, Richard says while they’re walking back to their desks after having been scolded; it sounds casual, like it’s meant for no one in particularly, but Jeremy sharply retorts, “Why don’t you ring him up and tell him yourself?”, regretting it right after. “He wouldn’t listen to me…”, Richard replies before disappearing through the door of his office. _Oh well I’m dead to him and I don’t remember James being into necromancy, so he won’t listen to me either._

Despite Richard’s not so subtle hint – and it’s still unclear how much he actually knows about the whole issue - Jeremy decides to keep playing it cool: he sits down and tries to concentrate on the tasks Andy assigned him, without success. Instead, hidden behind the huge desktop monitor, he keeps obsessively focusing over James’s empty desk like it could hide a clue to understand the reason why James hasn’t showed up – if there’s a different one. Jeremy is tempted to text or call James, and he often gives up pretending to be doing something meaningful to fiddle with his phone instead, never actually typing anything worthful on it as well and desisting every time, _you’re dead, remember?_

_It's going to be a long couple of days,_ Jeremy reckons; he's not of great help at the office and blames his distraction on the farm show, well aware it’s something else that is wearing himself out.


	8. Chapter 8

It’s a good thing Lisa is at home on Tuesday night. It’s been a hard day at the office: not physically demanding as the farm could be, but still, having Richard checking on him every even hour with a different blatant excuse and Andy coming over with another theme to develop every odd one – James’s share of work for the show, probably - has driven Jeremy on the verge of losing it.

It’s a good thing also because Jeremy has spent the last night drunk, miserable and alone, overthinking about James, then wanking over him again – this time consciously - then regretting what he’d done, before finally falling asleep exhausted and ashamed of himself, and it's something he wouldn’t have done if Lisa had been sleeping next to him instead of being away.

It’s even better actually, because Lisa is particularly snuggly tonight and Jeremy has no objections when she suggests moving things to the bed, instead of wasting time watching a rom-com that he’s already found boring from the titles.

It’s exactly what he needs, to lean against two pillows while enjoying the way Lisa is straddling his lap, sinuous like a belly dancer yet ethereal like a Nordic goddess, rocking her pelvis in that way that works for them both - it took them a while to sharpen up an arrangement that satisfied both her tastes and his aches, _something James couldn’t do – oh god why am I thinking about him again?_

Despite the attempts to overcome the odd thought as quickly as possible, his dismay shows through, enough for Lisa to stop moving and softly ask if it’s all right with him.

“Just… a cramp - in my buttock…”, Jeremy stutters.

“Want me to get off of here?”

“No! Stay, it’s passing - come here, come closer…”; Jeremy reaches out and caress her soft skin, his hands rubbing up her stomach and around her shoulders - silky, skinny and delicate, _not like James at all_ , “I want to touch you… feel you…”, _I don’t want to think about James anymore._

She bends forwards, and Jeremy draws her in a lustful kiss, wrapping his arms around her, fingers spread over her back and bottom; overcoming both aches and worries, he drags her with him as he rolls clumsily on one side first, then over her, desperate to prove how what he already has is better than whatever he could have.

Lisa follows his moves, improving the angle between them so that it’s easier for him to thrust deeper, to keep her closer while taking in all the he can: her surprised giggles first and the moans later, then the scent of her skin and the way she clings to his shoulders as she comes, overloading his senses in the attempt to hush his mind, until he comes as well.

“I love you”, she whispers after her breath has recovered its normal pace, one finger busy in ruffling the hairs on Jeremy’s forearm still draped across her belly. Jeremy places a kiss on her shoulder, “Love you too”, and closes his eyes. He feels Lisa falling asleep soon after; he’s unable to do the same, in spite of his exhaustion, and just lies still, unable to decide if he’s just managed to reach a new low despite having already hit rock-bottom the night before.


	9. Chapter 9

On Wednesday morning the scene repeats itself: it’s almost ten and James hasn’t been spotted around - this time he hasn’t even called in sick and doesn’t pick up his phone when Andy calls him. Jeremy would like to point out that he should be the one calling in sick since it’s two nights that, for one reason or another - actually the same one both times - he can’t sleep properly, but he knows better than to retort anything when an already furious Andy summons him and Richard in his office.

“Okay, I know I may sound unsensitive and I do understand you’re all worried about him, but I need James to get on with the plans of this bloody show, so, is anyone willing to go and explain it to him? I don’t care if he’s heartbroken, dead, or anything - I just want him here.”

Jeremy wonders if it’s the right moment to inform Andy, and Richard too, about what may have caused the current issue, who is the dead one among them and why; probably not, since apparently what Andy actually wants isn’t an explanation, but someone to go, make small talk if needed and bring James back to his desk.

“You, Richie? You're the sensible one here, I mean, maybe he’s going to listen to you.”

“Thanks but, since it’s about Sarah, I’ve already explained Jeremy how tactless it would be to send me there - I mean, her and Mindy are good friends, and perhaps he won't take advice from a happily married man, I guess.”

“Fair. Jeremy?”

Jeremy looks back at Andy as he’d just recommended him for a bodybuilding contest, without saying a word.

“Okay, got it, maybe not the best one to deal with delicate topics… Alright, I'll do that myself.”

Jeremy’s sigh of relief doesn't last long since his brain quickly illustrates him all the downsides of Andy’s decision: _he’s going to talk with James. And James will be so stupid to tell him what has actually happened - I mean, he's been so stupid to have told me, he’s probably going to tell him everything and that's an even worse decision than having called me in the middle of the night_.

“No, wait. I'll try and talk with him. I mean, I've already been there… Oh, don't look at me like that”, he retorts to Andy’s dubious side-glance, “I'm not that much of a moron. I'll be diplomatic, I swear.”

Andy spends a few seconds to silently evaluate the offer, then approves it: “Fine – just don’t fuck it up as your usual”, his tone far from playful. It hurts a bit, and also highlights how delicate the issue is: Jeremy hasn’t thought about the consequences, hasn’t thought about it all, not enough at least; he’s not even sure anymore it’s the right thing to do. He’s dead to James, that’s a detail Andy is still unaware of, fortunately, but it’s going to become suddenly relevant if he fails. "Okay, I'm going right now then”, Jeremy resolves, “Hope he's not gone flying his bloody plane", he mumbles while walking away, head hung low and hunched shoulders. Richard waits in silence for Jeremy to get out of hearing distance, "What if... he fails?"

"I don't know. But he volunteered, and I need James here by hook or by crook, so it’s fine by me. Do you want to bear his rant about how insensitive, incompetent or unpersuasive we've been in dealing with James? Let him do a bit of the dirty job, he’s probably the only one that can drag May here against his will and make it looks like he’s doing him a favour – and if not, well, he won’t be able to blame us."

Richard only replies a poorly convincing "Okay..." and gets back to his office.


	10. Chapter 10

Less than ten minutes since Richard has gotten back to work, a shadow shaped like James May looms over his desk; Richard raises his eyes above his reading glasses, incredulous, "Hey mate! It's good to see you, how are you?"

There’s a hint of fondness, a hesitant smile in response but it’s clear that James has other things in his mind – troubling, serious things, given the determination in his eyes.

"Is Clarkson here?”, James asks, and Richard stammers out something that comes out worse than he hoped, “Er… no… he’s just gone out… for… a thing”, but James doesn’t seem to care too much about the style:

"Good. Do you have a couple of minutes? There's a thing I need to tell Andy, I'd like you to hear it as well.”

"Sure."

James nods a ‘let’s go then’, and Richard stands up and follows him, trotting mildly intrigued right behind James up to Andy’s office. James knocks on the door but gets in straight away, without waiting for a reply, with Richard after him. Andy marvels, “James?”, his tone somewhere between surprised and fed up, but James probably doesn’t even realise it, firm on his goal as he is: 

"Hello. Before you go on planning the next show... I quit.”

At the word, Richard becomes a salt statue, petrified in the act of closing the door behind them. Andy, instead, clicks one last time to stop the low-volume video he was watching, then takes his glasses off, folding the stems one after the other, and places them neatly aligned between the monitor and the keyboard, their tap against the desk audible in the silence fallen in the room. It's only when Andy looks at him again that James goes on:

"I know about the fine, it's... I mean, I can afford it - it's this I can't stand", waving his hands vaguely around, unable to stare back at his colleagues. Still apparently unimpressed, Andy inquires:

"James, please understand my puzzlement... what's wrong with 'this'?”

"It's wearing me out - it’s my private life on the news, and I can’t go on like this, with everybody knowing. You are all treating me like I'm a poor sod or mentally challenged and I can’t bear it any longer.”

"Well, I guess it’s only a matter of kindness, everybody is slightly worried about you, honestly…”

"Thanks but it doesn’t help. Quitting, maybe, will.”

Silence, again, and a few baffled glances between Andy and Richard, who has released his grasp on the handle but still stands next to the door, hesitant about which side to take; it’s him that tries to understand James’s reasons:

"James... is it because of her? Did she put it like 'me or the show'?"

Unexpectedly taken aback, James asks "Mh? ‘Her’ who, Sarah?”; his hair bounces as he talks and the whole scene is so surreal that Richard snorts a laughter at the absurdness of the question, "Who else James? Do you have a side chick and Sarah busted you with her?"

"What? No... and stop acting like you don't know the reason why she left - and why I'm leaving too, you know this is not about Sarah.”

Seeing how Richard raises one confused eyebrow, Andy steps in:

"Okay. Now please pardon me again but... what is this all about then?”

"Andy are you fucking mocking me?”, and now James sounds seriously angry; it happens rarely but it never ends well, Richard knows from experience, so he tries to save them both from James’s fury, “Well if it’s not about Sarah I’m clueless as well...”, but it doesn’t work like planned, because James bursts out:

"Stop playing the fool, you twat, you weren't that drunk! I know that you know! That everybody knows! Why do you think I didn't want Jeremy to be here?"

This time Richard doesn’t miss a beat: "Because the news of your desertion would have probably killed him stat?”, he explains it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “You know how much he cares about the show, and about you - he's barely bearable lately... he’s not going to take it well", and his words have James visibly rethinking his rant.

Andy is of the same mind: "Not that I understand your reasons or approve your choice, but since we’re at it: you're going to tell him yourself. And I don't want to be there when you do. Jeremy is a sodding pain in the arse, we all know that, it's no news - he's just worried about like we all are, probably even more, you know he deals with certain things differently. He’s not going to like this.”

There’s a silent, puzzled James in the middle of the room now, and he looks so confused and worn out that Richard feels the need to confess:

“I can’t help feeling slightly involved here… I mean, it's my fault in the end... I knew it by Mindy, I mightn’t have done the right thing telling him, maybe I should have waited for you to tell him yourself…”

James frowns, "Tell him what?"

"That you and Sarah have split up, what else?"

At such an ingenuous explanation James’s confidence visibly dents, and it takes him a bit to recap the whole scenario including the recently acquired information, a scenario where Jeremy hasn’t actually said a word, let alone publicly made fun of him, Richard ignores the actual reason behind his split-up and he’s just overreacting to the most unthinkable of the coincidences. While the others two stare at him questioningly, James tries to sum it all up, seeking for confirmation:

"So you’ve told Jeremy… after Mindy had told you?”

Guilt-ridden, Richard nods affirmatively, “Him… and – accidentally, I swear - everyone else…”, but James doesn’t seem too interested in the last part:

“Hasn't the oaf wanted to have a say about it?"

"No, he's being particularly respectful actually, but again, you know he's got a soft spot for you..."

James keeps investigating warily, "Hasn’t he told you anything?”

"What?”, Richard screeches, “Does he already know your intentions? And he hasn't begged you on his knees yet?”

"No, not that..."

Then it’s Andy that attempts at guessing, "Then what? That you're still not over Sarah? It's pretty clear James, I mean, it’s why everybody here is worried for you, but... I don't think it's a valid reason to call it all off."

James probably hasn’t even heard Andy’s last words, lost in his thoughts a thousand miles away; Richard could swear he's seeing the perfectly arranged gears that make up James’s mind running at an alarming speed, dangerously close to over-revving, "James… is everything okay?"

Brought back to reality, James thinks about it just a bit longer before answering:

"Guess so… well, maybe – do you know where Jeremy is?”

Andy’s head drops against the headrest as he gives up comprehending what’s going on, "I've just sent him to your place, to investigate your intentions with the show..."

“Oh. Got it. Er, perhaps I'm not quitting anymore... I mean, if you're not going to fire me - we'll discuss it later if anything, I must go now."

As abruptly as he appeared, James vanishes out of the door, leaving his two colleagues speechless and confused; "Have you vaguely understood what has just happened?”, Andy asks.

"No. But... he’s still in, right?”

Andy scrubs his face, “What did I do to deserve this? Why can’t we go on like normal people doing a normal show?”

“Don’t look at me, it’s not me crashing this time”, Richard replies.


	11. Chapter 11

There’s a Range Rover cruising through West London, although at a remarkably low speed; there’s a man behind its wheel who is unusually silent, lost in his thoughts while driving. The moment he accidentally makes eye-contact with a cabdriver, both of them waiting by a zebra crossing, his inclination for airing kicks back and he questions himself loudly, as if the other man could hear him, “Why the hell did I accept to do this?” - the answer is so obvious Jeremy doesn’t even attempt to word a logic sentence in his mind, let alone saying anything out loud.

It’s a short ride from the office to Hammersmith; it’s also a parade of traffic lights, and every red one is a chance to scrub his face, like that gesture could drag away the reality and have him reopening his eyes over a brand new world where James isn’t mad at him and, while he’s at it, a few things have gone differently in the past.

Driving, instead, allows him to fine-tune the details of his intervention, to evaluate what to say and what to avoid, and also to convince himself this is the right thing to do, whatever James has said or done.

_Just keep it professional and about the show; you're going there just to prevent him making a fool of himself, you're offering him a truce - that you're not supposed to ask for since you haven’t done anything wrong, but still - but it's all about the show._

A cyclist cuts his way, and Jeremy swears he would follow him and show him another convenient placement for the water flask he was drinking from instead of checking for incoming cars, if only he wasn’t on his way to redeem James, so he gets back to instruct himself:

_Please keep it all about the show, it would be already hard enough like that. Don’t make it about you - you’re dead – it’s about the others, it’s for Andy and Richard, and for the rest of the crew as well. Find a deal, bring May back to the office, forget about it._

Then, more harshly, it’s James he addresses:

_It’s what you wanted, me to forget it all, right? Well I did, I’m coming like your colleague only – I probably shouldn’t have, I should let you get to the very end of your suicidal plan, let the bridges burn and so on; I’ll waste my time trying to convince you because you’re not going to believe me and I don’t even know why I’m doing this!,_ he concludes, only to acknowledge how much of a lie it is right after.

Jeremy is almost there when his phone rings. He deliberately ignores it – he’s driving, but mostly he’s already too busy in avoiding other cars, bicycles and pedestrians that keep popping out like mushrooms in his way, while asking himself how a misanthrope like James could happily live in such a busy neighbourhood. His mobile is still ringing after he’s parked in a miraculously free spot a few steps from James’s, so he resigns himself to checking who's interfering with his mission – only to find out, astounded, it’s James himself calling.

"May?", he picks up, unsure about what to expect in response.

"Are you at my place already?", James plainly asks, and Jeremy flinches: he checks for a hidden camera or something similar through the windscreen, "Er... yes? How the hell d-"

"Don't move from there, I'm coming home - we need to talk", James orders, then hangs up.

_I'm dealing with a complete lunatic,_ then he achingly rephrases it: _I’m_ fancying _a complete lunatic, which is worse._

Mind-reading abilities apart, it's James’s sudden change of mind that worries Jeremy: he is unable to ascribe it to anything he’s done – he hasn’t done anything as per James’s request, he actually stuck with his resolution, _is it really so unexpected from me that James has gone bonkers over it?_

_‘We need to talk’, like we’re a sodding couple_ \- but Jeremy promptly dismiss that train of thought, concentrating on how to deal with James’s stubbornness and bring him back to the office instead, _don’t forget it's all about the show_.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: looong chapter - this is what I mean when I say I'm bad at it. Sorry, didn't have the heart to split it in half.

The street James lives in is indeed quieter than the main road, at least until a motorbike passes by, rumbling obnoxiously and distracting Jeremy from the ongoing dwelling; it’s only when it pulls over in front of the right door that Jeremy realizes it’s James.

Jeremy gets out of the car and reaches him on the threshold, to James’s surprise: “Thought you’ve gotten inside, you know where the spare key is”, he greets Jeremy, like nothing has never happened between them. "Your sofa smells of smoke and your refrigerator is probably as empty as a nun's lingerie drawer”, Jeremy replies, hiding his wariness under the jest, and steps inside after James. “Wasn’t feeling like going out these days”, he explains while carefully hanging his motorbike jacket on the coatrack.

“Yet you’re just back from somewhere, right?”

“Well it seems you’re roaming around too… what brings you in Hammersmith, Clarkson?”, James teases him; still pretty uneasy with James’s behaviour, Jeremy can’t find anything better than telling the truth while following him to the kitchen, “Andy decided it was better someone had a talk with you - I volunteer to.”

James stops and turns only to blink sarcastically, “Does he really think you’re the diplomatic one?”, walking away without waiting for an answer, and Jeremy feels dangerously close to be fed up with him already, “Oh come on May, don’t be so deliberately stubborn, you know why I’m doing this: you’re messing with the show and Andy is quite inflexible on that, you should have known.”

James doesn’t seem to care though: he just pulls the kettle out of the cabinet, “Tea?”, with a domesticity Jeremy finds inappropriate considering the way they’ve parted the other night.

“No, thanks”, he replies while wondering if he’s the only one that sees the elephant in the room, and the answer is probably ‘yes’ considering how James keeps behaving like the perfect host, “Sure? I don’t have much else to offer, you were actually right about the fridge.”

“It’s no problem”, or at least the problem is not what to drink: Jeremy is on the verge of begging him to stop pretending everything is normal when, unexpectedly, James does it by himself, right after having put the kettle back in his place, and starts explaining instead, “I knew Andy has sent you here, I was right out of his office when I’ve rang you up”, leant against the counter arm-crossed.

Reconstructing the timeline of the events requires a bit of concentration, and Jeremy pulls out a chair from the kitchen table to sit down and process what has happened in the last half an hour on a larger scale; he doesn’t manage to, however, as he freezes shocked before getting comfortable, due to James’s next words: “I was about to quit the show – I probably accidentally have, I hope Andy will-“

"YOU WHAT?”

For as much as he’d suspected that, Jeremy wasn’t ready to hear it loud and clear from James’s voice; James doesn’t even leave him time to ask further, going on like it’s no big deal, “I told Andy I didn’t want to work with you anymore - then I retreated, so I guess it’s all fine and-”

"You _guess_?”, Jeremy shrieks; “You do really want me dead, don’t you?”, he gasps right after, shocked and shaken like he’s right out a chicane approached too fast, while James doesn’t seem intended to slow down:

“No. And I grant you: not my proudest moment but I had my reasons - it’s been for the best actually, I mean… that thing Hammond has said at the pub, it actually was fortuitous, right? He doesn’t know I’ve rang you up that night…”

It’s another sudden change of topic, another couple of sharp turns where Jeremy struggles to follow James’s train of thought, leading away from Jeremy’s goal and dangerously close to the issue he’s trying to avoid.

"Oh, that?”, Jeremy stammers, short-breathed and still confused; _oh Lord, give me strength,_ “Well, yes; as I've always told you, but since you don't believe me anyway, this is not going to change anything, or is it?”

James bobs his head, granting: "Hammond explained a few things that made me change my mind. And I'm sorry, I really am - you didn’t deserve to be treated like I did, I understand you were just trying to… be kind or something.”

 _Something - definitely ‘something’_ : ‘be kind’ sounds rather demeaning for the inner turmoil that has prevented Jeremy from sleeping too many nights so far. Jeremy swears he’s tried his best to keep it about the show until this point, now it’s James’s fault if he doesn’t care about it anymore. _He’s talked with Andy, he_ guesses _it’s all fine, what else do you need?_ may be perfunctory conclusions but Jeremy’s conscience couldn’t provide anything better in such a short lapse, so they will do. He pushes the chair back in place, his hands tensely clung to the backrest, and tries his luck: "So... not dead?"

James tilts his head, confused, then it dawns him: “Oh. No, not dead… I’m sorry I haven’t trusted you, thought it was a chance too tasty for you not to take the piss out of me”. It stings enough for James’s apologies to get lost under the second part of his statement, and Jeremy’s reaction is dangerously, achingly sincere: “James I came here because I didn’t want you to tell Andy why you’re mad at me or have to justify your decision at all. I was ready to accept whatever condition you would have come out with to keep you in the show, all to keep having you around for one reason or another, I was willing to take the blame if you actually wanted to quit anyway – why do you keep assuming I could have been such an arse?“

James shrugs, “You’re the only one I’ve told what happened with Sarah, and it wasn’t exactly a well-pondered decision; I’m sure you’ll understand mine was the simplest explanation - talking with Hammond and Wilman has clarified a few things, so, again, I’m really sorry.”

“Yet you didn’t believe me when I told you”, Jeremy bitterly retorts.

James doesn’t reply and just walks to the hallway shaking his head; through the door Jeremy can see him fumbling in the pockets of the coat hanged there, until he pulls out a cigarette and lights it up, inhaling the first drag with the same concentration he’d use to taste an expensive French wine.

He stays there, at what it looks like a safety distance, staring at Jeremy through the door, "That other thing you've said… that one was a joke, right? You didn’t actually…-”, the automatic gesture promptly aborted “-, mh?”

Jeremy flushes red: it’s not something he’s proud of, but he cannot lie right after having boasted about his sincerity; he also doesn’t want to lie to James, yet he fears where this conversation is going. He scratches his head like he’s searching for the right answer, while instead he’s considering the implications of what he already knows he’s going to reply with.

One case is he’ll suddenly be dead again, figuratively only until Andy will discover the truth, then probably for real - by his boss’ hands. The other, all things considered, may be even worse, yet there’s something deep inside for which Jeremy can’t help wishing for the latter. _Come on Clarkson, in for a penny, in for a pound,_ "I did."

James scrunches up his face – understandably, Jeremy allows, thus he blurts out a clarification he hasn’t been asked for: "I can’t forget what you’ve told me. I keep wondering if you’ve really meant it - and if you still do.”

It’s not a justification for his act, not even a question, but the silence between them asks for a reply, and the way James bows his head to avoid Jeremy’s eyes is quite an admission despite what he says: “Is it going to change anything? You will always mock me for what I’ve said just the same – you’ve wanked over it!”

 _Oh James, how can you be so obstinate,_ Jeremy snorts, “You’re getting this all wrong…”

“What if you’re getting it wrong as well? What if it’s just been a blunder?”, James replies defensively – it probably means Jeremy has hit the right spot, but James’s strenuous denial starts to become annoying, so he argues, "Oh, is it? Why did Sarah dump you then?", Jeremy insolence legitimised by urgency; James’s only reply is another drag, and that's how Jeremy realises how rude he's just been, "Sorry. Didn't mean to be that harsh."

“It doesn't make sense anyway. Listen Jeremy, how long we have to work together again? It's less than a year, let's get through this and I'll sod off right after the camera goes off in the last scene, I swear. Until then, please forget whatever has happened until now and I promise you I’ll do my best to not botch the show, okay?”

Jeremy can’t control himself anymore; it's a variation over the "fight-or-flight" response, where there's nothing to fly away from but a lot to give up, and it's not a matter of fighting either - it's quite the opposite actually:

“I don’t want you to sod off! Christ James, how can you be so dense?”

He takes a break to calm down and lower his voice, in what may look like a leap of politeness; truth is he’s going to say something he doesn’t want it to be linked to an outburst of rage - his lungs wouldn’t allow him to shout much longer, also. So it’s with an almost husky voice that he eventually confesses:

“I’ve been thinking about you for so long - you know I did - and whatever I was trying to convince myself of lately, I still do.”

James’s stare is harder than usual to read, but at least he is paying a different attention now and so Jeremy keeps wearing his heart on his sleeve, spilling his guts with proud sincerity:

“I wish you had told me a few years ago. I’ve been wondering if we still have time – I really want to have time for this, for you; you’re quite a good reason to wish for more time, you’ve always been and I haven’t been firm enough for you to understand I was seriously thinking about you - you haven’t helped, also, for the record – but I’ve been thinking about you, and it’s literally the only thing I can think about since you’ve told me.”

He wasn’t supposed to say it, and he's still not sure it's quite the opposite of what might have helped to bring James back to their office as soon as possible. He could claim it’s been James’s fault, but it doesn’t matter in the end. It’s probably going to turn into an even larger disaster in three-two-one yet Jeremy stands there, lulled in a strange sense of relief that has him remaining unexpectedly calm instead of bracing for what’s next.

James hasn’t been able to stare at Jeremy for the whole speech, his head bowed after a few words and his only reaction at the end is a quite painful beg, ”Jeremy please”, expressed while running a hand through his hair, “I’ve just gotten out of a long-term relationship…”; _Granted_ , Jeremy reckons, but it still feels somewhat prefabricated, the cheap excuse you seek when you’re fine with the point but don’t want to be blamed for it - Jeremy knows from experience.

It’s not that he doesn’t realize the indelicacy of the question but it’s definitely too late for pleasantries; since the end justifies the means, at this point it seems absolutely reasonable to plainly ask “Do you still love her?”

The seconds it takes James to answer pass slower than usual: he takes a quick, meaningless drag from his cigarette, lost in his thoughts, and the longer it takes for him to answer, the more Jeremy’s regret grows sensibly, together with the fear of having gone beyond the pale, until James sighs an almost liberating “No”.

Jeremy’s sympathy for James momentarily chokes every other emotion: his first instinct would be to place a hand on James’s shoulder, maybe even hug him, if only it wasn’t James, hadn’t his baggage of aversion for human contact and Jeremy didn’t feel somehow responsible for the whole thing. Thus he just waits a handful of seconds to let the dust settle before coming out with another indelicate question, “So… what’s holding you back now? I mean, if it wasn’t a blunder – I hope it wasn’t, I also hope you’ve understood I’m… er, interested.”

This one probably makes James even more uncomfortable; the bitter giggles he tries to hide behind cease when he spots the urgency in Jeremy’s eyes, and he squints and twists his nose up in a grimace between pain and disdain, “What’s wrong with you Clarkson?”

 _Oh, a lot of things… not this one though,_ but Jeremy’s actual answer is only a hurt glance; James takes another drag, blowing the smoke on one side, “What about Lisa?”

It’s a rather sad thing how effortlessly Jeremy knows what to answer: “She... she will understand. She'll call me a stupid fag, maybe throw a dish or two but she will understand... we don't have shares together or anything binding, and she knew how much of a moron I am right from the start.”

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea Jeremy.”

 _You’re wrong. It’s the only good idea I’ve probably ever had;_ it’s such a gratuitous hyperbole that Jeremy knows better than to say it out loud, but he can’t help standing for his feelings, “Just give me a chance.”

Suddenly livelier, James twitches so abruptly that a chunk of ash falls from his cigarette, “It's not something you get a chance to, Clarkson! A chance to what? What kind of chance are you thinking of? I don't come with a fucking trial period!”

“It's not you, you idiot! It's me! Give me a bloody chance to show you I'm serious - and stop smoking, it's going to kill you and I don't want you to die.”

James deflates again, exasperated, “Jeremy... Please understand I won't tolerate any kind of joke on this topic.”

“Never been more serious”, _James please_ , Jeremy silently adds, not even sure of what he’s pleading for.

They lock eyes for a few seconds, James’s half-hearted stare versus Jeremy’s for once genuine puppy-eyes, then James walks into the kitchen again, dodging Jeremy to reach the overfull ashtray in the middle of the table: there’s still half a cigarette to smoke yet but James extinguishes it, then takes a couple of steps back and sets himself right in front of Jeremy, crossing his arms and challenging him, “So, what’s that you wanted to show me then?”

Apart from the disgraceful wanks, Jeremy must admit it’s more a matter of metaphysical attraction, therefore it’s going to be a bit hard to show it here and now, there’s something weird in attempting to put down in words what Jeremy exactly finds attractive. It’s all and nothing at the same time, it’s James’s utter jamesness that had Jeremy realized that his weird colleague is the only one he’d give up touching boobs for. It’s the realisation that, after ages spent bickering, he still wants James to be part of his life - hair, jumpers and all; the belief James wants him the same way, given what he’s said; the hope he finally won’t retract or deny it, for the same reason.

 _A kiss would do_. Jeremy figures it’s going to be awkward, yet he can’t find anything to better summarize what he feels. Thus, he slowly approaches James, leaving him a way out, _just in case I’m doing this all wrong._ But James stands there - and it’s a good sign, an alarmingly good sign - and unfolds his arms while Jeremy gets closer, and this is even better and more alarming. When he reckons his intentions are clear and James is not running away, Jeremy looks at him one last time, a quick glance to evaluate distances and angles, then closes his eyes and bows his head until he feels James’s lips under his own:

_I'mkissingyou,I'mkissingyou,pleasedosomethingbecauseI'mkissingyouandIdon'tknowhowlongittakesbeforeitgetstooawkwardandI'llgiveup,Jamespleaseshowsom-_

Eventually, James does one thing, the tiniest tilt of his head, and Jeremy decides it's enough to not panic; there’s a brush of lips, stubble pricking his skin now, but their noses aren't squashed against each other anymore, and the added share of oxygen blows away the smell of smoke that seemed remarking how much of a bad idea this was. James adjusts the angle between them a little more, parting his lips; another whiff of smoke, this time negligible over Jeremy’s worry about a kind of intimacy he’s not sure he’s ready for, but it’s just the beginning of the word James whispers while pulling away, “Jeremy…”

Jeremy mirrors the movement, swallowing the unforeseen, sentimental embarrassment; “Told you I was serious”, he croaks, before clearing his throat and taking a step back, anxious to discover James’s reaction.

It’s nothing theatrical: James nods imperceptibly - it’s his hair that reveals the gesture, bobbing rapidly around his face; yet, the way he licks his own lips before talking makes Jeremy unexpectedly melt, weak knees and all, _oh crikey._ He recollects himself right after, trying to save face a bit, promising himself to reconsider the whole scene later and alone.

Apart from that, it’s the same old James speaking, maybe a bit flushed but less shocked than Jeremy assumes:

“Well that isn’t exactly the definition of getting serious-” “Oi!” “-but okay, I think I got the point… what now?”

Pragmatical. Concrete. Disappointingly unimpressed in Jeremy’s opinion, _as if we hadn't just kissed!_ , “God James, is there a limit on how rational you can be?”

James shakes his head, “I’ll answer for you: there’s the show, there’s your other shows and there are my projects, there’s your girlfriend, your kids and our relatives, there are our co-workers and then the paps and the whole world.“

If James’s list was meant to dissuade Jeremy, it spectacularly fails to achieve its goal; instead, Jeremy finds it a rather practical summary of the issues he’ll be asked to deal with in the near future – maybe in a slightly different order - but still, it won’t succeed in making him desists, not now that James is finally at his fingertips:

“We’ll talk about that, okay? We’ll find a way…”, and it feels like it’s all downhill from here, now that James knows for sure and can’t pretend to not have understood; it’s so liberating that Jeremy recalls he’s been sent there for a different reason, “Just… let’s get back to the office first, Andy is going to kill me if I don’t bring you back… let’s go, I’ll give you a lift.”

James’s lips twist in a way that can’t be labelled as enthusiastic, “I’m not your damsel in distress, I’ll get there by myself”, hitting Jeremy right where it still hurts a bit.

“I was trying to be kind!”

“Aren’t you overdoing it lately?” James replies, but eventually he hints at a shy smile. Jeremy quickly decides it’s enough to not worry, _bickering back and forth, we’ve always done it_ , “Well, obviously, considering I’m trying to prevent you from killing yourself on that stupid glorified bicycle… Please just be careful, see you there”, and walks outside, almost staggering for the strange mix of excitement and concern.

Once in his car again, Jeremy avoids replaying the whole scene in his head for the sole reason he wouldn’t be caught dead arriving later than James; waiting there to check if James actually leaves poses the same risk, so he just drives back to the office.

 _I’ve kissed James. James, I’ve kissed you - you’re right, it wasn’t the best I could do, but come on, it was our first kiss, and you’re still a middle-aged bloke, it had to be awkward!_ , he explains to an utterly impassive steering-wheel, _I’ll do better, I promise I’ll do better, if you’ll let me._

And yes, James is right, but Jeremy still calls it a victory despite being well aware it means the opening of a few different battle fronts; nevertheless, he feels unbelievably content.


	13. Chapter 13

Leant against the wall by the main entrance, Jeremy is scrolling through his phone absent-mindedly; he raises his head from the screen when the motorcycle rumbling through the car park stops a few feet from him, then he shoves the phone back in his pocket.

“What are you doing here?”, James inquires warily as soon as he’s taken off his helmet; “Just checking you weren’t bluffing or anything: you’re my warranty against Wilman’s rage, I wouldn’t dare to show up alone”. It was also intended as a quick test to check if he’s still able to look at James in the eyes after what he’s done – the added difficulty of keeping a straight face at James’s right-out-of-the-helmet hair wasn’t planned, but Jeremy deals with it as well.

“Oh, I think I’m the one he’s mad with actually”, James comments, getting inside before Jeremy. 

As soon as he spots them coming back, Richard raises one interrogative eyebrow; Jeremy is quick with a joke, “See? I’ve found the lost sheep… needs a shave but it’s fine for the rest”

“Let him believe he’s done something useful for once” is James’s point of view, to which Richard nods knowingly, then grins happily at them both. Jeremy keeps following James up to Andy’s office, “Just to be sure”. James knocks and waits this time, stepping into the office only after having heard Andy’s reply; while he walks inside Jeremy pops his head round the door, signing victory behind James and disappearing before he turns around to check what Andy was looking at.

He leaves them alone and gets back to his desk, where he is soon reached by Richard: "I’m here to apologise... I didn't realize he was so determined in not letting you know - I shouldn't have rung you up from the start, he seemed mortified he hadn't had the chance to tell it himself.”

Jeremy replies with an embarrassed groan, "Er...”, still unsure about how much Richard actually knows, but it’s working somehow, as he keeps going: "Yeah… I've apologised to him as well, hope he’s understood it was all in good faith…”

“Oh I’m sure he did”, Jeremy replies, this time more convincingly.

“I’m happy he’s back, I really couldn’t imagine going on without him”, Richard concludes, already walking back to his office; he can’t see the smile on Jeremy’s face as he replies “Neither I.”

Andy has had no objection when asked for the permission to leave a couple of hour earlier, so by the end of the umpteenth coffee break Jeremy gets through his round of goodbyes before heading back to the farm, saving the last one for James, “So, see you tomorrow, right?”

James raises his tea mug towards Jeremy, “Sure, good night”, and Jeremy smiles in response, hiding the disappointment underneath it: it is a standard ‘good night’, perhaps reasonably since Richard is there, yet he hoped for something different, something more intimate, some sort of coded message meaning ‘yes we’ve almost kissed and it’s fine’, if not ‘I want more’ - that, and the awareness that it’s not going to be a good night at all.

It’s the same steering wheel he’d threatened to tear off a few days ago, the one he’s been talking to in the late morning, but tonight Jeremy is clutching at it during the whole drive, squeezing it like all the words he’s going to need soon could pour out of it. When he finally gets home, Lisa is quick to greet him throwing her arms around his neck and her hair back as she always does, waiting for a kiss: Jeremy always takes the chance to sneak a peek of her cleavage when she does so, always gets let down by her breast being smaller than he recalls, always likes her all the same; “Oh, someone has had a bad day at work”, she notices, “You look bushed”; Jeremy leans in to place a quick peck on her lips, knowing it will be the last one, before announcing, “There’s one thing I must tell you”.


	14. Chapter 14

The morning after Jeremy gets through the greetings, the first round of coffee and Richard’s comments about how ghastly he looks; the last point is in fact a positive one, considering he’s pretending to have a cold to justify both the scarf and the dark circles under his eyes.

Then, when everybody around has taken their place and look busy enough to not care about him, he leaves his desk and places himself in front of James’s, waiting for him to raise his head from the keyboard. It’s a lovely sight, the one of James with thick-framed glasses and ruffled hair quizzically staring at him, and it’s a shame Jeremy is probably going to ruin it all, but he really can’t do otherwise. He leans forward, his hands flat on James’s desk almost embracing it and all its content to find some kind of intimacy, albeit unable to look James in the eye while explaining:

“I’ve talked to Lisa. She laughed first, then she beat the shit out of me. Quite literally, hence the scarf - don’t want to explain the bruises on my neck – but then we’ve found an agreement and she’s willing to carry on with the farm, at least until I’m done with the show. And… I had to tell her – she wished me good luck.”

James’s eyes, at first wide with curiosity over Jeremy’s behaviour, increasingly narrow during the whole explanation, “Oh God Jeremy...”; by the end they are hidden behind a curtain of hair, locks hanging over the hand James has dragged to his forehead seemingly keeping his head from falling.

Jeremy waits there, checking a couple of times that nobody is caring about them, until James finally passes that same hand through his hair to pull it back, raising his head to meet Jeremy’s gaze again - looking more sympathetic than condemning, to Jeremy’s relief.

“Told you I am serious. I don’t want to wait a whole year or anything, I’ve already waited too long.”

James takes his glasses off and stretches his neck to check no one is at hearing distance behind Jeremy’s frame; he licks his lips before speaking, and Jeremy can’t help hoping it’s his taste over them James is trying to recall.

“Isn’t a drunken late-night confession a poor basis for what you’re anticipating?”, he replies, lowering his voice for good measure, with a smirk that gives a complete different meaning to his squinted eyes – and that’s more than what Jeremy was hoping for.

“That’s why I’m taking you out for dinner tonight – last time you’ve declined my invitation, but it turns out we’re both single now… so, is Italian ok?”

The comb-over he’s just given himself comes undone when James tilts his head, staring at Jeremy wide-eyed again, this time with the look he reserves for inexplicable or overwhelming things, the happiness flooding his eyes hinting at the latter.

 _Come on Slow, this wait is killing me;_ it takes all Jeremy’s will to not say it loud, to not push James for a ‘yes’, to contain the trembling and not give out his nervousness, but he waits diligently until James stops pressing his lips together and they appear again, redder than usual, to form a delighted smile, “Fine”.

Jeremy straightens up, beaming under the ravages of the night just passed: “Great, I’ll let you know the details – and thank you, you’ve made an old man happy”. He deliberately avoids looking at James again now that he’s sure his utter joy would show through and he would be an easy target for mockery; James doesn’t do that kind of things, but this is different – _this is ours_ , and Jeremy deeply hopes James will get used to this and able to joke about it as soon as possible.

Once he gets back to work, it looks like the Internet has magically started to provide interesting bits of trivia about the places they’ve planned to visit that surely make for good telly and also a couple of pranks at Hammond’s expenses; the hard part remains containing his happiness, because if Andy discovers how favourably disposed Jeremy is now, he may slap him with another chore - or asks why half of the open tabs in Jeremy’s browser are websites of Italian restaurants in London.


	15. Chapter 15

Shaving is hard: Jeremy’s stubble is almost too short for the razor and he fears he's going to behead himself if he doesn't pay enough attention. Looking at himself in the mirror is hard: there are the scratches Lisa left across his wrinkles, turned pinker yet still visible, so he'd better avoid chafing over them, to not irritate them again, hoping they’ll hide under the collar of his shirt. Dressing up is hard: he’s always despised the concept of dressing to kill when you're actually hoping to get undressed soon, yet this time feels different - this time is James, and Jeremy wants to do everything right and nothing special at the same time; he isn’t that sure about the whole undressing business either, but can’t help thinking James is worth the effort, so it’s a smart white shirt he pulls out of the hanger – hoping it still fits him.

Jeremy was the first to arrive, as usual, but he blesses James’s chronic lateness tonight because the way he appears from around a corner has Jeremy’s heart miss a beat for how radiant he looks. If Jeremy had to choose a shirt out of James’s wardrobe, it would have been the one he's wearing tonight; not only it isn’t an eyesore, it also matches James’s eyes - and it’s not that someone is immune to the appeal of blue eyes just because his own are blue as well.

The spell gets broken by James’s practicality, “Did you have the decency to ask for a table aside?”

“Relax, they all think we’re here for business…”

“Well aren’t we?”, he promptly replies; the mischievous spark in his eyes leaves Jeremy speechless, while James leads the way inside the restaurant still giggling in a mildly embarrassed amusement.

Jeremy follows him, still bewildered by James’s cheekiness – resentment stings, _why the hell have you waited for so long?_ , but he swallows it together with the ensuing realisation of how deep into it he already is, not without shivering at the thought.

They settle in a quiet corner of the restaurant, at a table that pleases James’s demand for discretion; Jeremy resolves to go easy on the wine since he’s already dangerously euphoric and therefore, he fears, prone to screw it all up right from the beginning.

It’s a lovely dinner, food is scrumptious, and James looks at his best, especially considering what he’s recently been through – Jeremy almost feels ashamed for having thought that, having supposed James hasn’t been this happily affable from long before. Despite his resolution to keep the conversation casual as long as possible, it’s a consideration that recurs too many times to be ignored, so, by the end of the dinner, Jeremy fiddles with the spoon, scooping the traces of the tiramisu he’s just savoured, and eventually asks: "That thing you've said, that you're right out of a long-term relationship... I'm willing to wait if you feel the need to, I just wanted you to consider the chance… so I’m really happy you've accepted this invitation, I sincerely hope you’re enjoying it.”

It comes out a bit rushed, to Jeremy’s shame, yet James smiles calmly in response: “I am. And I think we'd better have this conversation somewhere else", he suggests. Expectation and apprehension balance each other, so when Jeremy replies "I'll ask for the bill then” he sounds almost at ease; James nods and drains the last sip of wine from his glass.  
  
There's an involuntary brushes of hands while they get into the cab that makes Jeremy shiver again, then blush, _oh come on, it's James, you can't be that nervous,_ but the more he rethinks about it, the worse it gets. The ride feels like a torture: Jeremy agrees it may be for the better, but not sharing a single word make his mind free to wander and there are places it’d better not go. Out of the corner of his eye Jeremy sees how James is looking out of the window, seemingly careless, his familiar silhouette flashing against the city lights, and there’s something cinematographic in it that hits Jeremy on the melancholic side, w _hat if it all goes wrong, what if I’m going to screw it all up? I mean, he’s said he’s in love with me, the hard part is already done, I only have margin to ruin it all._

The cab halts in front of Jeremy’s flat, bringing Jeremy suddenly back to reality. James has his card ready to pay for the ride and smiles at the way Jeremy jolted; Jeremy can’t help feeling a complete idiot and his uneasiness is dangerously taking over all his other feelings. Out of the cab, he forces himself to calm down with a couple of long, deep breaths as stealthily as he can, hoping James won’t notice it.


	16. Chapter 16

“If you’ve changed your mind it’s fine all the same…”, James offers while Jeremy turns the key into the lock; _great, I’m fucking transparent now_ , “No… I'm just... nervous”, Jeremy replies, but deliberately keeps his head bowed, embarrassed and anxious, until they’re both inside. “I... I don't know what I'm doing... I mean, I'm aware of what I'm doing, and I'm bloody happy of doing it, but... I've never gotten this far with a bloke before.”

"This far like... bringing one at your place?”, James asks, and Jeremy nods apologetically, "Yeah, mock me... I never had”.

“I supposed it, if I had to be honest.”

"Don't rub it in May", Jeremy almost begs; then, trying to save his reputation, he blurts, “Oh let's hear it, how many lads have you shagged, you shameless tart?”

James dodges the question with a side-glance and a naughty smirk, then turns serious again:

“That thing you've said at the restaurant, when you’ve offered to wait - weren't you tired of waiting or something similar?”

It’s probably less accusatory than Jeremy thinks, but he takes it as an alarming sign of how close he is to screw it all up. Thing is, he meant both, _oh hell_. Jeremy gets himself together in the lapse of another long, slow breath, and opts for plain sincerity. It’s not exactly a choice, it’s more the only way he can deal with James, especially at this point:

“I was. I wanted you to know, I was tired of keeping it all for myself – it has gotten particularly demanding after you’d rang up that night. It’s years I should have told you – I tried to, but it probably was too subtle, I should have made it clearer or maybe it was you that didn’t want to understand it.”

He sees James shaking his head and the allegation off with it: “It wasn’t the right moment and you knew that”, he justifies himself, but Jeremy is of a different mind, “Yeah, whatever, it doesn’t matter anymore - I don’t want to wait anymore, I want you to know this is serious, that I’m serious; that said, if it’s too early for you I would understand”, _it won’t be easy, but I swear I’ll understand_.

“No. I mean, thanks for the thought but I’m fine with the timing; so… could you just try and show me how serious you are again, then?”

“Oh, er… well…”, Jeremy stutters, caught off guard, so James gloomily adds “…if you want to.”

Mortified, Jeremy attempts to provide an explanation to his hesitation, “God James I bloody want to... It’s, I know you don't like to be touched, but... I mean, I’m not sure I won’t…“, _great, wordless. Thank you, James, oh the things you do to me_ , and decides that flapping his hands around it’s a good explanation of his worries, “I mean, I may want to hug you or so…”

“It’s fine, you can do that as well - if you want.”

Jeremy quickly estimates he wants and nods accordingly; thank god James is of the same advice so he only has to lean forward and tilts his head to find himself lips on lips with James. It already feels familiar – too much, as James remains motionless under the touch way too long in Jeremy’s perception:

_Oh please not again, do something for God's sake James, I beg you-_

Then James does something, and this time it’s a complicate thing that starts with slightly pulling away his mouth from Jeremy’s, to Jeremy’s sudden alarm, followed by cadenced brushes of lips and fast breaths, making up the words of a brief statement, murmured against Jeremy’s mouth so softly it’s barely hearable, “I love you”; this time there isn't enough oxygen in the whole world to deal with that, and Jeremy choses to give up and just drown in.

James is kissing him with the same committed enthusiasm he reserves for his boring, ages-long explanations, only this isn't boring at all - it's the right opposite, and Jeremy's involvement quickly grows well beyond objective perception of time or space. Unexpectedly, it’s the easiest thing ever to kiss James, it’s a perfect junction that keeps them balanced in the middle of the hallway, leaving Jeremy free to concentrate on how much he unconsciously needed such physical intimacy, how naturally his tongue slides inside James’s mouth, allowing James to do the same, welcomed and longed-for, how simple yet fulfilling such a gesture is.

His hands he was so over-conscientious about have easily found their place now, cupping James’s nape, his fingers sliding into hair softer than he thought, while James is clinging to Jeremy’s shoulders to pull him closer. The three words keep echoing in Jeremy's mind: it wouldn't be that difficult to say it back, to just mutter "I love you too" while taking breath; he’s pretty sure it wouldn't be a lie but nevertheless it feels too much, too many revelations all together and not enough neurons in service – blood is already heading south but he doesn’t want to think about that either.

James’s bodyweight pressed against him is still unfamiliar, but it’s soft and warm, and Jeremy is sure he will get used to that quickly; it’s when Jeremy feels James’s heartbeat pounding against his own chest that he lets go the grasp on James’s nape out of necessity, overwhelmed and short of breath. He breaks from the kiss for the urge to justify, to explain his reasons to a rather flushed James; “That thing you’ve said… I… god James, I can’t say that back right now“, he pants, grasping at James’s arms.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to – I thought you already knew though, I believe I’ve told you once”, James smiles but Jeremy is too caught up to reply anything and just nods rapidly, biting his lower lips to concentrate on his next move, still embarrassed like a sixteen-year-old, "God James... what are you doing to me..."

James rolls his eyes and grabs both lapels of Jeremy's shirt in one hand pulling them towards himself, Jeremy and all, to plant another kiss on Jeremy’s lips. It takes Jeremy a split second to get the hang of it, but he already feels confident enough – and challenged over his competence in the field - that he drags James with him as he takes a step back to lean against the wall.

Despite Jeremy’s best attempts, it’s hard to keep up with James, who seems being perfectly at ease with this, _with this clumsy old sod_ , and the thought is making Jeremy's heart melt to the point he needs to halt again and just vent, “You're making it so easy… You- I don't know if you can understand how happy I am.”

“I think I do”, James states without missing a beat, and gets back to kissing Jeremy before he had a chance to reply.

Jeremy can’t help thinking they should have done this years ago, but he won’t break a kiss for such a pointless retort, not now that James tastes like everything he has ever needed. And it’s also almost embarrassing to admit how much he’s liking James’s tender slowness, almost ashamed of finding it all so comforting. He tries to reciprocate, he could swear he’s trying, but James’s dedication is so overwhelming that it’s hard to think sensibly while feeling so loved, it’s so easier to just indulge.

It's after another kiss, and another, and another, increasingly snuggling in James’s softness and warmth, that Jeremy can’t restrain himself anymore and just… yawns. It’s a yawn of utter comfort and fulfilment - slackening at the end of the race, exhaustion winning over excitement - nevertheless, it’s a bloody yawn: rude and inappropriate, turning into an even worse grimace when Jeremy tries – unsuccessfully – to stifle it.

James has pulled back just enough to check on him, more worried than offended, and Jeremy almost chokes in shame, "Oh god James, I'm so sorry”; the weight of James’s hands flat on his chest prevent him from breathing normally and scrubbing his face works right the opposite, leaving his eyelids stickier than before, so that Jeremy finds even harder to keep his eyes open now, "I've slept like three hours in two days, and I'm too old to find it cool or call it a life".

"Shhh, I get it, you're tired, it's fine", James, _merciful James_ , replies, but Jeremy is too ashamed to believe him, “It’s not. This- you, you were being… perfect.”

James giggles, “You are too tired indeed, you’re talking nonsense”, unexpectedly amused, then hugs Jeremy again, affecting his precarious balance so that he almost falls over, burrowing his face into James's shoulder, "God James I could fall asleep right here…”

“Trust me, you’ll find the bed more comfortable.”

Too tired to argue that James would be a solid third place after the bed and the sofa, Jeremy keeps apologising, "Please tell me this is the worst date of your life - you know I aim to excel, one way or another."

James doesn’t reply, he just smiles and offers instead, "Want to come at mine on Sunday, for lunch? You might have caught up on lost sleep by then..."

A spurt of serotonin makes Jeremy articulate a reply, "Could. Would love to.”

"Great - so... I’d better go now… you really need to sleep”; there’s no malice in James’s words but Jeremy is too distressed to understand the kind intention, too worried he’s ruined it all, "Oh god James… Please don’t hate me. I’m really sorry. It seems I can’t help being an arse, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry I’m so fucking tired but please believe me I’m so happy you’re here. And I mean here this close.”

“I do believe you. I mean, I’ve mistrusted you once and look where we are!”, James jokes again, bright eyed and grinning happily; Jeremy can only giggle, barely persuaded it’s all fine and too exhausted to add anything without risking messing it all up, yet “Can I have a goodnight kiss before you go?" seems a completely acceptable thing to ask – especially if everything is fine as James said.

"You utter romantic...”, James scolds him before giving in and kissing Jeremy again, even more tenderly if possible, and Jeremy silently blesses him one more time before checking for good measure, “Are you sure you’re not mad at me?”

"I am sure. It’s been a lovely night and I can’t wait to do this again. And I mean this", James replies before running his hand through Jeremy's curls to tilt his head and kiss him again, "But you’d better go straight to bed now”: another quick kiss and James heads to the door, “See you, good night”.

Jeremy’s last awake brain cell is busy forcing himself to keep his eyes open – and his mouth shut - until the door closes behind James, and miraculously succeeds for the price of an idiotic grin stuck on Jeremy’s lips.

Then, with the grin frozen on his face, he crashes on the sofa and falls asleep there, exhausted but utterly, utterly happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter, marking the end of the story despite being the beginning of James’ and Jeremy’s relationship; perhaps Jeremy will text James the morning after, apologizing again before confessing he's looking forward to seeing him soon, hoping it's the same for him.  
> When they meet again on Sunday, the pie James has made will easily cool down in the tray before they're done with the greetings, “James?” “Yes?” “That thing you’ve said…” “Mh?” “Never mind – just… I’m in love with you as well.”
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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